


If I Let You In, Will You Let Me Heal?

by flipflop_diva



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: AU for season 3, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the only way to deal with the pain is to let someone else help you. An AU fic set during S3.01 after the building explosion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Let You In, Will You Let Me Heal?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csichick_2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csichick_2/gifts).



He’s sitting alone at the bar at Molly’s. By all accounts, Molly’s isn’t even open right now and he shouldn’t be here at all, but he can’t go home and he can’t stay at the hospital and the firehouse is much too intrusive because he just needs to be alone so he can pretend none of this is happening, so he looked at Gabby and pleaded with her with his eyes and she was too upset and too worried about other things to argue much, so she handed him the key and told him that if she found even one bottle out of place in the morning that she would skin him alive, and he knows it’s true.

So he sits at the bar at Molly’s with plans to take a shot from each and every bottle in there until he’s too numb to feel anything and too far gone to worry anymore, because it’s been seventy-two horribly fucking long hours and he just needs Shay to wake up and tell him it’s all going to be okay, that _she_ is going to be okay. That’s all he needs, but he can’t have that because a damn pole hit her in the head and now no one knows what is going to happen, so he pours his first three shots and downs them before he can think about it too much.

He doesn’t hear the door open and he doesn’t hear her slip in and it’s not until she actually takes the seat next to him and puts her folded hands on the bar that he realizes she is there, and he finds himself thinking that this must be why she’s such an amazing detective if she can sneak up on people like this without making a sound.

He doesn’t look at her and she doesn’t look at him, but he takes his fourth shot and passes one he hasn’t drank yet over to her and watches from the corner of his eye as she swallows it in one gulp, and his respect for her goes up even more than it just did by her sneaky entrance because a woman who can drink always gets him.

They do one more shots and she doesn’t seem phased at all by any of it, but he is the one who can’t stand the silence suddenly, even if he came here for the silence, so he speaks first, still not looking at her.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Casey called Antonio. He called me.”

Severide nods because that makes sense but also because Lindsay is a detective and even though he hadn’t once thought to call her, it was a big accident so of course the police units know and of course she knows and of course she would come because that is how their relationship works. If they can even call this a relationship. Sometimes he’s not sure. He knows he likes her and he knows she likes him and he knows they are there for each other. He shows up when he knows she needs him, and she shows up when she knows he needs her, and they both pretend like they don’t need anything, but they have sex and then they lie together and he holds her in his arms when she’s had a rough day and she doesn’t let him get up when he’s had a rough day and in the morning they kiss and go their separate ways. They don’t talk about it or analyze it. It just is what it appears to be, but it works, and that is what he thinks as he takes his sixth shot and she takes her third and he feels a strange warmth in his chest from knowing she is next to him.

She pours the next set of shots — they are on to the cheap brand of vodka now — and she hands him the glass and doesn’t say anything about him maybe needing to slow down or take it easy, and he’s grateful for that because it’s the last thing he needs, even if it’s true, and she also doesn’t ask how Shay is or if the doctors are hopeful or if he’s planning to go back to work because she knows him enough to know that none of that matters right now and words can’t change anything anyway.

He leans his head back and pours the liquid straight down his throat and savors the way it burns because at least he’s feeling something that’s not pain and anguish, and when he’s done, he turns his head to look at her fully for the first time since she snuck in, and he’s surprised to find she’s looking straight back at him. She reaches out and places a hand on his cheek, and her touch is soft and warm and matches the expression in her eyes, and he can’t help it. He’s leaning forward and his hands are gripping her arms and his lips are pressing into hers as hard as he can, but she’s not resisting and she’s not trying to push away and in fact he feels her respond so he keeps going.

And again he thinks that this is so fitting for how their relationship is — nothing expected, nothing demanded, everything just given and taken as the moment requires — and he finds himself thinking that maybe it’s time she meet Shay because Shay would really like her, but the thought of Shay sends a lump into his throat and he can’t have that, so he kisses Lindsay harder and lets go of her arms so he can get a handle on the buttons of her shirt. 

If Lindsay is opposed to having sex in a not-really-open bar, she doesn’t say so out loud and Severide can’t really tell because she is pulling off his clothes almost as fast as he is pulling off hers and then they are a mess of tangled limbs and panting breaths and sweat-covered bodies on the floor and he thinks if Gabby ever hears about this that she will murder him but he really doesn’t care because _this_ is what he needs and Lindsay is what he needs and he loses himself in her because it’s here and now and it feels good and he needs to feel good.

They are still lying on the floor, him on top of her, foreheads touching as they regain their breath when he hears his phone buzz, and he doesn’t want to look because he doesn’t want to know but his hand is moving toward the device before his brain can tell it not to and then his eyes are scanning the words that seem to be screaming at him and his heart is in his mouth and his lungs aren’t getting enough air and he has to hand the phone to Lindsay because he thinks he is going crazy. She reads the words and he watches her read and he waits for the sadness to come into her eyes, but instead a smile explodes across her face — the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her and he thinks it looks nice — and then she’s nodding.

“She’s awake!” she practically yells, and she’s laughing and he’s laughing and his world is righting itself and the only thing he can do is lean down and kiss her one more time because she got him through this and he owes her and he thinks — and finally believes — that there really is room in his life for two beautiful ladies and he thanks god he has them both.


End file.
